


Guide Me Home

by Horanghay



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, and they were ROOMMATES, neck massage with feelings, songs to holler 'bro just kiss him' to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25970683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Horanghay/pseuds/Horanghay
Summary: It would be easy, Mingyu thinks, to kiss him like this. All it would take is leaning down a few scant inches and he could do it, could feel Jihoon's rough, chapped lips against his. Sometimes, he thinks he could get away with it, play it off as a joke like they do with so much of their affection.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 123





	Guide Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [ anj ](https://twitter.com/mingyu_uji) for being a pocket enabler.

Mingyu doesn’t really believe in reincarnation, but he figures he must have been in love with Jihoon in a past life. There’s no reason for his heart to drum so quickly when he meets the other boy for the first time, no reason for it to still beat this quickly seven years later when he slips into Jihoon’s studio, closing the door quietly behind himself. The dark, dimly lit room lends itself to near-silence, and Mingyu can see Jihoon’s hands working quickly against the keyboard and mouse, editing to microseconds that Mingyu would never be able to distinguish.

"Hey, hyung." Mingyu says just a little too loudly, mostly to let Jihoon know he’s there. With the desk's positioning, it would be too easy to sneak in and remain unnoticed for a very long time. (Something he's done multiple times, and almost purely for his own selfish motivations).

The small grunt of recognition he gets in return is permission for Mingyu to lounge over the back of Jihoon's desk chair, long arms draping over his friend's torso. Jihoon removes the bulky, plush headphones before stretching back, surprising Mingyu as the movement brings them face to face, albeit upside down. Jihoon's hands lock behind Mingyu's neck after, and it's hard not to appreciate the relaxed line of his body, from the stupid fucking flip flops to the too-short shorts and overly baggy shirt that makes Jihoon look like a giant 7 year old.

"They send you on a rescue mission?" Jihoon asks, smirking as Mingyu flushes at the proximity and refuses to make eye contact. Satisfied, Jihoon settles back into his chair properly with a grotesque series of cracks and pops as his body realigns. Mingyu doesn't want to think about how long Jihoon’s been sitting in that exact position for, hunched over with nothing but the LED display of the monitor casting a ghoulish pallor on his skin, highlighting the dark bags under his eyes.

"Mmm, something about kicking puppies. " Mingyu confirms, hands sliding up Jihoon's torso to settle around his neck, fingers working against the taut muscles underneath. The sound Jihoon makes at the simple massage is lewd and probably only half intentionally so, but it still goes directly to Mingyu's gut.

Mingyu likes how his hands look on Jihoon. Likes seeing the way they cover so much skin, how it makes Jihoon look small beneath him. Thinks about how they’d look against the backs of his thighs, or around his narrow waist. He contemplates how easy it would be to do from this position, already half leaned over the chair. Instead, Mingyu works in rhythmic circles down Jihoon's neck, using just his fingertips at first then switching to the palms of his hands as he dips lower, working behind Jihoon's shoulder blades at knots that have been there for years, across the slope of shoulders that have held too much weight for both their lifetimes. Sometimes, he wants to cut himself open and place Jihoon behind his ribs, inside his heart, stitch it back again so he can keep him forever. Moments like these, where there’s nothing but the two of them.

It doesn't take long for his fingers to start cramping, but Mingyu persists, working his way back up Jihoon's neck until his thumbs slide under his jaw, working the tendons that are tight from hours of Jihoon forgetting to unclench his teeth. Mingyu lets his fingers wander, just a bit, brushing against Jihoon’s cheeks, one fingertip catching on the corner of his mouth. Places he isn’t allowed to touch, normally.

At this, Jihoon's head tilts back, eyes closed, and he lets out a moan that Mingyu's mind vaults past decency into something decidedly Not. His fingers keep up the gentle ministrations despite threatening to seize, just so he can watch the relief wash across Jihoon's face in waves, hear little groans that he doesn't try to stop.

It would be easy, Mingyu thinks, to kiss him like this. All it would take is leaning down a few scant inches and he could do it, could feel Jihoon's rough, chapped lips against his. Sometimes, he thinks he could get away with it, play it off as a joke like they do with so much of their affection.

Eventually, Jihoon's eyes slowly open back up and Mingyu's sure this is worse. They study each other for long moments, shared breaths hot beneath them and Mingyu's hands still working small noises out of Jihoon. A quick, pink tongue wets Jihoon’s mouth and Mingyu watches it, watches Jihoon catch his bottom lip between his teeth, watches the indents fade quickly back into pink as it’s released on the next moan, an invitation that doesn’t need words.

So he leans in, and Mingyu can feel Jihoon holding his breath, the way he stills against Mingyu's hands on his neck. But in his past life, Mingyu was a coward. He is in this one, too. So he pauses, presses a soft kiss to Jihoon's forehead before pulling back, steadfastly ignoring the look of disappointment he must be imagining in Jihoon's eyes. Mingyu has to tear himself away, fully, before he does something else he might regret, but Jihoon’s hand catches his.

“I’m almost done. Wait for me?” he asks, and Mingyu can’t look at him, focusing only at Jihoon fidgeting with the silver ring on Mingyu’s pinky.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” Mingyu finally chokes out, once he figures out how to use his words again. He doesn’t catch Jihoon’s gentle smile, just nods before turning back to throw himself face-down on the pleather couch, pressing his flushed face into the cool cushion. Fuck.

Mingyu wakes up- sometime. He has no idea how long he’s napped, the room timeless to the outside world. His eyes are still too sleep-heavy to open, but he can feel a blanket tucked around him, wrapping him in a warm cocoon everywhere except his feet that dangle off the edge of the couch, prickling like a microwave. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”Jihoon says, singsong, and when Mingyu opens his eyes, too close. He’s crouched next to Mingyu on the couch, head laid on his crossed arms, face inches away in an approximate mirror of before.

“Wh‘timesit?” Mingyu asks, mouth tacky and dry from sleep, his mind still clawing back to the surface. He figures he’s still dreaming, with the plain adoration on Jihoon’s face, the slight curve of a smile urging his heart toward overfull.

“Time to go home,” Jihoon answers, handing Mingyu a bottle of water and leaning back. Mingyu sits up just enough to take quick gulps, both to steady himself and to keep from saying something emotional.

“Have you eaten? We can get something on the way home.” Mingyu says, knowing full well that he has no desire to eat. But it’s not about him- it’s about how he knows Jihoon hasn’t had anything other than maybe a cup of instant ramen, if he’d even stopped for it.

“You aren’t going to cook for me?” Jihoon frowns, and Mingyu’s breath catches on an exhale. He gulps down more water, wishing it would quench his insides as quickly as Jihoon’s words set them alight.

“Yeah, I can do that.” Mingyu says, promising despite his body urging him to go to bed. “I can do whatever you want.”

**Author's Note:**

> [ twt ](https://twitter.com/whoreanghay) | [ cc ](https://curiouscat.qa/horanghay)


End file.
